Chapter 22
I turned my attention to the computer and typed in Empire Angels. The first website to pop up was a group of technology start-ups in New York. I giggled as I wondered what they thought about a rock band sharing their name.
The second website was the one I clicked. It was plastered with pictures of the four original band members, and I was disappointed that Mason wasn’t featured in any of the photos. The older brother who’d offered to fill in for the original bass guitarist still wasn’t getting the attention he deserved.
I felt an uncharacteristic desire to defend him. Maybe tonight I’d get the chance.
One of the first decisions I’d made as manager was to re-jig the staff rostered hours. My main reason was to allow Marjorie to finish earlier so she could spend a bit more time with her kids before they went to bed, so I’d moved everyone’s shift forward an hour. This meant that although I started at five-thirty in the morning, I also finished at two o’clock.
Unlike Needledick, Marj always arrived at least fifteen minutes prior to her shift and every day this week, I’d been surprised when Marjorie had come bounding into the lobby; today was no different.
“Hey Marj, how are you?” I hugged her bony shoulders to me.
“Excellent. How’s your day?”
“I can’t believe my shift is over. The days go so quick.”
“That’s a good thing.” She was the happiest I’d seen her in ages, and I liked to think my decision to tweak the shifts was a contributor to that.
After going over my new handover checklist, during which we spent as much time completing the list as we did chatting about her kids, we said our goodbyes, and two minutes before my shift officially ended, I headed up to my apartment.
The last five days had been a struggle with my body clock, and the transition from sleeping during the day to sleeping at night hadn’t been as easy as I’d hoped. After ten minutes in my apartment, my eyes grew heavy, and by the time I’d eaten a cheese toasty, I could barely keep them open.
Resisting was pointless, so I changed into a T-shirt and undies, set my alarm for six o’clock, and crawled into bed.
It seemed like only ten minutes before my alarm went off, and when I rolled over to glance at the time, I couldn’t believe I’d slept for nearly four hours. Based on the dried dribble trailing from my bottom lip to my chin, it must’ve been a deep sleep, though.
Groaning, I dragged my body to the kitchen and turned on the coffee machine. I filled the cow mug Henry gave me to the rim with strong black coffee and stirred in two sugars.
Carrying my mug to the bathroom, I then turned on the shower taps. It was ages before the warm water had my brain back in focus. As I was drying myself, I heard a knock on the door. Thinking time had gotten away from me, I glanced at my clock, but it was only six-twenty. Frowning, I pulled the towel around myself and went to the door.
I peeked through the peephole to see Lolita and pulled the door open. She bounded into the room and dropped a large bag to her feet. “Hey, babe.” Her boobs squashed against mine as she squeezed me in a hug.
“You’re early.”
“I know.” She plucked a wine bottle from her bag. “I’m thinking a few wines while we get all Memphised up.” Her eyes were wide, and with her excitement playing out in her jittery feet, how could I refuse?
“Sounds great.”
While she went to the kitchen to get wine glasses, I went to my lingerie drawer and pulled on a black lace G-string. I didn’t bother with a bra; Lolly had seen my boobs dozens of times. I returned to the kitchen topless, and she offered me a glass that she’d filled to the rim. We raised them in a toast. “Cheers,” we said in unison.
“This’s going to be so much fun. Now, what color contacts are you wearing? ’Cause I want to give them a try, too. And can I wear one of your wigs?” Lolly spoke at a million miles an hour.
“Of course. Come on.” I picked up my wine and headed to the bathroom. “Thank goodness I bought more violet contact lenses because that’s what I wore last time I was with Mason.”
“Okay, so maybe I should try the green ones.” Why Lolly would want to hide her beautiful blue eyes was beyond me, but I handed her the unopened packet containing the green contacts anyway.
“Show me how you do it?”
“Okay.” I opened my container, plucked the purple disk from the solution, pulled down my lower lid, and, with the contact balancing on the end of my finger, popped it into my eye.
“Oh, shit. You made that look so easy.”
“Now it is . . . but it took me a while to get used to it.”
Lolly poked her long blue fingernail into the end of the packaging box to open it.
“Look at your nails. Wow.”
She wriggled her fingernails for me. “Gillian did them to match the dress I wore at the dance class Christmas breakup party yesterday.” She reached for my hand and scrunched her nose at my disastrous fingernails. “You should get your nails done, too.”
“Nah.”
“Hey, you’re hotel manager now. You need to step things up.”
“I have stepped things up, thank you.”
She unscrewed the lid on the contact container. “It only costs sixty dollars for a full set of gel nails. You should treat yourself for Christmas. Men love a woman with long nails.”
I cocked my head at her. “Really?” I said with sarcasm. “I haven’t had any complaints yet.”
“Pfft, that’s because you’re distracting them with your pussy.”
I burst out laughing, and she chuckled with me. With the green contact now balancing on the end of her finger, she pulled down her bottom eyelid. “Here we go.”
I held my breath, bracing for her reaction as she eased the contact to her eyeball. She popped it in and blinked. “Ha. That was easy.”
Of course it was. Lolly made everything look easy. She put the second one in just as calmly and stared at her reflection. “Wow, I love it.” She turned to me. “What do you think?”
“Amazing, huh?”
“I reckon. Don’t forget to put your other one in; you look like a freak.”
“Thanks.” While I put my contact in and blinked it into place, Lolita walked out to the lounge room. When she returned, she had a large plastic wet-pack in her hands.
“Brought the secret weapons.” She unzipped it to reveal the most organized and comprehensive makeup kit I’d ever seen.
“Jesus, we could be here all night.”
“Ha, funny. This is only a fraction of my makeup. Now, what about the wigs? Which one do you want?”
I turned to the wigs that I’d lined up on the towel shelf in my bathroom. “I should wear the black one because that’s what I wore for Mason last time.”
“Oooh, look at that red one.” She pulled the wig off the shelf. I grabbed the black wig again. It was a disaster, but that only made it perfect for my rock-chick look. I showed Lolita how I pinned up my hair and then pulled the wig on.
She chuckled. “Oh yeah.” She pointed at me. “I remember picking you up at the park dressed like that. Holy shit, that was a hoot. Tonight’s gonna be a total crack-up.”
We chinked our glasses again, and I took a long sip of my drink. The wine was delicious, but on an empty stomach, I was already feeling the effects, and that was dangerous.
“Where shall we go for dinner?” I’d need something substantial if I was planning a big night of drinking. Pasta jumped to mind. “How about that Italian place around the corner? We can share a pizza?”
“I just escaped pizza at my house.”
“You can have a salad then, and I’ll have risotto.” I hoped my eyes reflected my eagerness.
“Okay. Sounds good. What time does the band come on?”
“Not until ten.”
She clicked her tongue. “Cool, that’ll give us time to have a few wines before we get there. Now help me out with this wig.”
By the time we finished in the bathroom, I was transformed with my black wig on and violet contacts in, and I’d recreated my makeup from my last time with Mason with gold eye shadow and very dark eyeliner. Lolita looked stunning in the fiery red wig and green contacts. She’d enhanced her eyes with a dozen colors, so her eyelids blended from a light pink to a dark purple. On me, that makeup would look ridiculous, but on Lolly, the bold colors looked incredible.
We raised our glasses at our finished looks and drank the last of our drinks. Back in the kitchen, Lolly filled our glasses again, and we dressed in our cheeky Memphis outfits. I pulled on faux leather leggings that Lolly had insisted I buy on our last shopping spree.
As I’d been thinking about what outfit to wear ever since I’d texted Lolita this morning, I removed a pair of thigh-high purple boots that I’d never worn. In reality, I never thought I’d wear them, but I’d loved them so much when I’d first seen them in the shop that I’d bought them regardless.
“What do you think of these?” I held the boots up.
She turned to me wearing nothing but a G-string, and I was shown once again just how perky her boobs were. “Fuck, babe, they’re fantastic.” She reached for one. “Where’d you get these?”
“I bought them years ago from this obscure boutique down in Broadbeach. I’ve never worn them, though.”
“I’ll have to borrow them sometime.”
“Sure.” Her stamp of approval was perfect, and I took the boots to the bed, sat down, put on socks and pulled them on. The boots had a velvet finish, with a fake lace that zig-zagged all the way up the front of the boot. The heel was about eight inches but with the wedged toe at the front they didn’t seem that high at all.
I stepped up to the mirror and tried to ignore my lopsided boobs as I checked out my boots. “What do you think?”
She turned to me, wearing a tight-fitting dress in a shimmering rose-gold fabric that hugged her curves perfectly. The dress was very, very short, showing off her shapely tanned legs. With her red wig curled over her shoulder, Lolita looked a knock-out.
“Wow! You look amazing.”
“Thanks. I bought this today.”
I chuckled. “Did you?”
“Of course. Never miss an opportunity to buy a new dress.”
She said it so matter-of-factly that I had to laugh.
“What? I mean it.” She pointed her blue nail at me. “You should etch that piece of wisdom into your memory. Now that you’ve got Saturday nights off, there’ll be no more excuses from you when I ask you out. And we need to fit in a hell of a lot more shopping time to keep topping up your sexy new wardrobe.”
I grinned at her and turned back to the mirror. “Okay. I can handle that.”
My purple boots were perfect, and I turned to admire the sexy heel. With the purple as my inspiration, I went to my lingerie drawer and removed a purple bra that was squashed down the back. It was plain satin, with a bit of padding in the lower part of the cup for extra oomph and had little diamantés on the satin straps. I put it on, and over the top, I wore a plain black button-up shirt that I tied in a knot at my waist.
“What do you think?”
She frowned, stepped forward, and undid the buttons on my shirt until it was open all the way to the knot. “Better.”
I turned back to the mirror. My shirt was wide enough to reveal my purple bra and a decent amount of my boob bulge. “I look like a tart.”
“You look like a rock chick who has the best tits in the world.”
God, I love her.
“Selfie time.” She plucked her phone from her bag, and we grinned at it until she’d snapped several photos. “I promised Cal I’d send him a pic.”
As she tapped away on her phone, I inspected my reflection. It was a new style for me, and damn, I felt totally sexy. I couldn’t wait to see Mason’s reaction when he saw me again. Grinning, I turned to check out my butt in the leather pants, and Lolita burst out laughing.
“What?” My jaw dropped.
“Oh, just Cal. He reminded me he’d eaten pineapple for dinner and told me to get my sexy ass home.”
I chuckled, relieved that it wasn’t my ass she was laughing at.
“So, are we ready to go?” She raised her perfectly formed eyebrows.
“Hell, yes, we are.”
We gulped down the last of our wine, grabbed our bags, and headed to the elevator.
Twenty minutes later, we were seated at Valentino’s restaurant. As much as I felt totally out of place in my thigh-high boots and exposed bra, Lolita looked like the queen of the restaurant.
Each time I tried to do up my buttons, Lolita slapped my hand away.
Maybe we should have ordered takeout.
Too late now.
Divine smells of garlic and grilled cheese coming from the kitchen made my stomach growl.
The elderly Italian woman who took our order had an accent that suggested that she’d just stepped off the plane, and she served us with swift efficiency.
Twenty minutes later, I tucked into creamy risotto packed with seafood, and Lolita nibbled on a bunch of spinach leaves. I succumbed to foodie heaven and refrained from speaking until my stomach was at peace again.
I’d resisted drinking the Prosecco Lolita ordered until I had a decent amount of rice in my belly, but when I did, I was delighted by how delicious it was. Lolita and I rarely had dinner together with just the two of us, and our conversation focused on the men in my life again.
She paused with her champagne glass at her lips. “Are you upset about Corben?”
I shrugged. “Yes and no. He was fun, and the sex was amazing, but . . .”
“But what?”
I sighed and sipped my wine as I formulated my answer. “I’m glad I called it off. It could have taken me a long time with Corben before I discovered his reluctance to settle down and have kids.”
“That means a lot to you, huh?”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you’ve never really mentioned kids before.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really? Hmmm. Well, of course, I want children.”
“Okay. If you say so. But just because you’re a woman doesn’t mean you have to be a mother. It’s hard work. It changes your life. They cost a bloody fortune, and it’s not all wonderful.”
“Wow, you know how to make it sound amazing.”
“Just giving you a dose of reality.”
“Can I buy you ladies a drink?” The young man who arrived at the end of our table had to be at least five years younger than us.
Lolly giggled. “You can, but . . .” She flashed her hand, making a point of showing off the enormous rock on her wedding finger.
“She’d love one, though.” She pointed her blue talon at me, and I attempted to kick her under the table.
I smiled up at the blond-haired spunk with the husky voice and dazzling smile. “Thank you, but not today.”
His mouth drooped, and he shrugged. “Okay, but if you change your mind, I’ll be over there.” He pointed at a group of guys who were all looking our way.
Lolita waved, and several of them waved back.
The second the young man left, we started giggling, and as we sipped our Prosecco and the minutes ticked lazily along, I realized just how wonderful it was to have my weekend nights free.
A lovely sense of contentment flowed through me, and it wasn’t just from the alcohol.
When we stood to go, I positioned my bag diagonally across my chest so it sat at my hip. We left the restaurant just after nine-thirty, walked to the main road, and five minutes later caught the tram to Surfers Paradise.
The tram stopped at the Cavill Avenue mall, and when the doors opened our senses were slapped by the buzzing street. We stepped out with the crowd. People were everywhere. Sights, sounds, and smells were all amplified.
It was fantastic, and I felt so alive.
Walking up the mall with my tits hanging out was weird, though, and I was certain every person got a look down my top. Lolita, however, strutted up the mall like she owned the place, and I tried to ease in behind her slipstream, but she hooked her arm into mine, which only opened my top farther.
The entrance to Elsewhere Nightclub was protected by a bouncer who could have given Corben a challenge in the muscle stakes. We paid ten dollars each to the scantily clad brunette behind the counter, Muscle Man stamped our wrists, and we entered through the heavy black curtains.
The nightclub had a trendy, colorful vibe, with concrete pylons and exposed steel beams giving it an industrial feel. The DJ’s music was loud, and the people were louder. Flashing lights aimed at the large wooden dance floor were as vibrant as they were erratic.
Lolita worked her magic and found us a bar table at the side of the dance floor. She instructed me to sit, and then she sashayed her way through the crowd to the bar. I flipped my bag from my hip to rest it on my lap and turned my attention to the people setting up equipment on stage.
My breath caught when I spied Mason. It was like I was destined to see him.
He was in black skinny jeans and a white T-shirt printed with a simple yet striking black and grey picture of a woman with wild flowing hair and parted lips that were contrasted in bright red.
Mason’s hair was styled to give height at the front, and his dark eyeliner matched all the other band members who were setting up with him.
When he picked up his guitar and strummed the strings, I was mesmerized by his concentration. The nightclub was a writhing concoction of rowdy people, flashing lights, and blaring music, yet he looked like he was the only person in the room.
Lolita returned with martini glasses filled with a red liquid, each decorated with a sliver of orange peel. I recognized the drinks as Cosmopolitans, one of the drinks Corben had introduced me to.
We grinned at each other and chinked our glasses, and I sipped the sweet, potent nectar.
I pointed to the stage. “There he is.”
“Oooh, he’s hot.”
“I know.” We had to yell over the noise, yet it was perfect.
The lights dimmed, the music stopped, but the crowd noise didn’t. “This is so cool.” Lolita’s green eyes were wide, showing her enjoyment.
“I know.”
“Welcome Surfers Paradise. Are you ready to rock the house?” Zenon’s gravelly voice cut through the crowd, commanding attention. People stopped what they were doing and turned. Several people moved forward, edging up to the stage.
Lolita grabbed my arm. “Down your drink.”
“What?”
“Do it.” She drained her glass in one gulp and cocked her head at me.
I did as instructed, and before I’d recovered from the affront to my throat, she grabbed my hand, and I clutched my bag at my hip as she dragged me forward.
Next second, I was standing to the left of center stage, front row, looking right up at my sexy guitarist.
“Mason.” Lolita cupped her mouth as she yelled, and when he looked down at us, she waved and then pointed at me.
I could have died, but when he looked down at me, and the stern concentration on his face transformed into a glorious smile, my embarrassment gave way to sheer joy.
He gripped his guitar and strummed out a hypnotic, soothing beat, and certain he was playing it just for me, I lost myself to the rich, full tones.
A few minutes later, the band kicked into their first song, and my body let loose to the music. Lolly and I danced, cheered, and attempted to sing the songs as we picked up the catchy lyrics.
Mason didn’t just play the guitar; he totally rocked it, caressing it like a lover. The music thumped so hard that my bones rattled. Occasionally they played a song where he lovingly thrummed the strings with a delicate touch that had me wishing those fingers were on me.
“We’ll be back in half an hour,” Zenon announced to the crowd, and the DJ took over as Blink 182 blared from the speakers.
Lolly and I returned to our table and muscled in on a couple of girls who’d laid claim to it in our absence. I went to the bar this time and jigged along to the beat as I waited my turn.
I just about died when I returned. Mason was talking to Lolita. Her smile lit her face like a beacon. When Mason smiled at me, my heart exploded, and my hands trembled as I put the Cosmo cocktails down. “Hi, Mason.”
He wrapped an arm around me and planted his lips on mine. It was as confronting as it was fucking awesome, but it was over as quickly as it’d started.
“It’s so great to see you.” He had to lean into my ear to be heard over the crowd, and I inhaled his incredible heady scent of leather mingled with smoking-hot man.
“You too. I love watching you play—you’re so talented.”
“Thanks. Can I buy you another drink?”
“I just got one thanks, but can I buy you one?”
“Nah, it’s okay. We get them for free anyway.”
“Oh. You met Lolita?”
“Yes, she was just telling me how you’ve been following me on the tour.”
I scowled at her. It seemed Lolita was as good at lying as I was.
“Well . . .” My mind raced for a response. “I’d hoped you’d come back to Surfers.”
“We love it here. Anyway, I’ve gotta go.” He leaned into my ear. “Will you come back to my room later?”
His hot breath shot lovely shivers down my spine. “I’d love to.”
He planted another quick kiss on my lips, then he turned and wove through the crowd until he disappeared behind a curtain.
“Holy fuck, babe, he’s so into you.”
I nibbled on my bottom lip. “He’s pretty hot, huh?”
“Hot? He’s fucking smoking!”
We laughed aloud, and as the music switched to a new song, I let the beat take my body to another world.
We danced, we laughed, we made fleeting comments about the people around us, and every second was a bundle of fun.
The band came on again, and we moved to prime position in the front. Mason grinned down at us, and we smiled up at him.
The lights dimmed, and within seconds, the crowd had us hemmed in at the stage. United, the entire audience seemed to dance to the catchy rhythm. I broke out all my best moves and tried but failed to match a few of Lolita’s.
One song finished, and when Mason moved to the microphone, I blinked up at him and watched wide-eyed as I prepared to hear him sing.
“This song is for my girl, Memphis.” He pointed down at me, and as my bones liquefied, the crowd roared. Lolita grinned at me, confirming what he’d said was the most amazing thing in the world.
A puff of smoke plumed from Lolita’s mouth, and I spun to her. “What the hell are you doing?” I’d never seen Lolita smoke.
“Smoking a joint.”
“What! Where’d you get it?”
“Dunno, someone just gave it to me.” She sucked on the joint again and closed her eyes as she inhaled.
“Are you nuts?” My mind was torn between watching Mason sing for me and the crazy bitch at my side.
She blew out the smoke and grinned. “Yep. Here, your turn.”